


Honey Won't You Eat Your Heart Out

by capyshota, KlingyKlaus



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: 1950's AU, Alpha Diego Hargreeves, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Historical, M/M, Minor Character Death, Omega Klaus Hargreeves, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Sexism, Rating May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2020-07-19 12:49:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19974361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capyshota/pseuds/capyshota, https://archiveofourown.org/users/KlingyKlaus/pseuds/KlingyKlaus
Summary: Klaus and Diego are a happy couple, who've just moved to Suburbia. They're getting along quite nicely in their new home, pockets lined with family money. But every family has a secret; every rich family a darker one.





	1. Impossible Dream

**Author's Note:**

> See the end for warnings. I didn't put it in the main tags, in order not to ruin the surprise  
> I am having a lot of fun writing this, and it was entirely inspired by the song _Petty_ by Todrick Hall.  
> A big shout out and much love to Capyshota for collabing with me on this. I write for Diego and Klaus. They write for Ben and Luther, and they do it so well! 
> 
> I love you bb.
> 
> Also: A big thanks to everyone who commented on my vent fic, I'm doin' alright now.

Diego has to admit that Klaus makes for a stunning picture. Sitting on the front porch of their brand new home, Klaus sips lemonade as Diego and the movers carry the last of their possessions into the house.

Their home is large, four bedrooms on the upper level with a total of three full bathrooms and a half bath on the main floor. It’s larger than two people need for themselves, but both Diego and Klaus come from money, and the alpha is still holding out hope for children.

Following a sudden urge, Diego jogs up to Klaus and plants a soft kiss on his mate’s smooth forehead. 

Klaus wrinkles up his nose and pushes gently at Diego’s chest. “You’re sweaty. And as much as I admire your display of alpha strength, as well as appreciate your dedication to putting our new home together, _I_ do not wish to be sweaty also. Please take a shower.”

Gearing up to protest, the wind is knocked from Diego’s sails when he realizes the movers have offloaded everything and placed it in the house already. There is furniture moving in his future, but not immediately. Things would need to be rearranged, but for the moment they are in a functional enough placement that Klaus won’t require immediate action on that front. Recognizing this, Diego simply nods and makes his way to the bathroom Klaus set up with their necessary toiletries and towels.

The bathroom, much like everything about Klaus, is extravagant. As close as Diego can approximate, somewhere around ninety-three percent of the surfaces in the rather large space are occupied by Klaus’ beauty products. Six-point-five percent of the room is taken up by soft, highly-absorbent towels as well as a bath mat, nautical-themed odds and ends, and an octopus figurine that keeps watch over the brave sailors of the tub (Klaus’ words). A measly point-five percent of the space houses Diego’s necessities; razor, shaving cream, body and hair soap, and pomade for his hair.

It’s easy, Diego supposes, for one to get upset about having such little space in a house they paid for. But Klaus paid for the house as well, and things with Klaus have always been this way. Klaus is all sharp angles, buffered by a soft exterior that hides Klaus’ sharp edges much like baby-proofing in a house masks dangerous corners, and space-filling presence. Diego takes up the spaces in between and around. That’s how it has always been, and Diego quite likes it that way. It ensures that no one looks to him for answers he does not know. It helps that Klaus is so much better at bullshitting than he is. 

Diego steps into their bathtub-shower combination and turns the taps, waiting for the water to warm. The initial icy blast of water is soothing to his overheated skin. Summer in the south is always brutal. He is happy to be inside, away from the gumbo-thick air that Klaus claims cures all ills. He’s skeptical of that particular line of reasoning, but he has to admit that the Georgia sun makes Klaus' skin look like freshly baked lumpia and causes his smile to stretch wide and happy anytime he feels the sun on his face. Diego may not love the south, what with the blatant racism and stifling summers, but he loves Klaus.

By the time Diego becomes aware of his surroundings again, the water is just this side of scalding and the room is filled with a thin fog of steam. If he concentrates, he can hear Klaus in the adjoining bedroom, singing off-key to a Sinatra song. Making quick work of his washing up, Diego lathers up his body and hair, rinses, turns the taps to off, then steps out of the shower to dry himself off.

"Diego, darling, meet me on the back patio when you're done?" Klaus asks from where his head is barely poking into the bathroom.

Sighing heavily, Diego nods to his mate and goes about his post-shower routine. It doesn't make sense to him that Klaus would make him shower, just to go back out into the oppressive heat, but he digresses. He would do anything to keep his omega happy, and going back outside is such a little thing.

Dressed and presentable, Diego joins Klaus on their back patio. Klaus is sprawled leisurely across the chaise lounge they set up in the screened-in area, sipping a glass of red wine. Diego can’t help but admire the sultry, wine tinted mouth of such a beautiful person. A beautiful person who is beckoning him to come lie with them.

"I thought we could watch the sunset. It's so beautiful over the water this time of year."

It's strange, thinks Diego, to witness Klaus in a place of vulnerability. The omega's voice holds a hint of questioning, a trace of insecurity, where it usually only holds firm command or cutting sarcasm.

"That sounds great, Klaus. But nothing could be as beautiful as you, and I get to see you every day."

The giggle Diego gets in response to his comment is extremely gratifying.

"Why, Mr. VandeRiet, you are quite the charmer aren't you?" Klaus flutters his lashes and moves so that one pale leg is uncovered by his silk robe, all the way to the top of his thigh.

Stalking closer, Diego takes Klaus' exposed foot in hand and kisses the top, over the arch. "Yes, Mr. VandeRiet. But only for beautiful, sultry, _bossy_ omegas that I can give my last name."

Simpering, Klaus continues their little game. "Well, that sounds like an awfully specific description. Whoever that omega is, they sure are lucky."

A large grin splits Diego's face and he places a gentle kiss to the place where fabric meets thigh, before looking into those sea-green eyes. "Trust me, I'm the lucky one."

Before he can right himself, Diego is tugged down onto Klaus. "I think we both may have found a mutually beneficial situation," Klaus says breathlessly, the wind knocked out of him.

"I think we have," Diego hums happily in response.

Sunset all but forgotten, Diego is drifting into a warm and comfortable sleep when Klaus nudges his side and says. "Don't forget, we need to go shopping next week. Karolyn's party is coming up, and I'm supposed to bake a pie." 

The only response Klaus gets is a sleepy nod, but it’s sufficient for him.

***

Diego is telling Klaus about the state of his company’s stock when they enter their house to find a young man sitting in their lounge chair and sipping a margarita.

“Five,” Klaus says hospitably, brain flying into panicked host mode. “I didn’t know you were going to be here, I would have tidied up. Maybe baked something.”

“You’re too young to be drinking,” Diego mutters from behind Klaus, where his arms are laden with brown paper shopping bags. Bags that Klaus would help with, but the feel of the paper sets his skin crawling. Klaus has some very strange quirks.

Five lets out a hearty laugh and takes a pointed sip from his glass before smiling at Klaus. “Klaus, dear, we all know you’re anal about your public rooms. There’s no tidying to be done.” He takes another sip, then addresses Diego. “I’m too young for a lot of things. Doesn’t stop me from doing them. You know what they say; it’s only illegal if you get caught.”

Diego opens his mouth to protest but is cut off by Klaus bringing out a pink platter on which the cookies he made the day before are arranged neatly. “So, darling boy, to what do we owe the pleasure of your company?”

The nickname is sort of an inside joke between the omega and beta, that Diego had yet to understand. The two have known each other far longer than Diego has known either one of them, and he sometimes feels as if he’s looking in on aliens conversing when the two really get into it. Allowing them to have their moment, Diego goes to set the bags on the kitchen counter and put the refrigerated items away. He’s done with the groceries, making his way to the living room, just in time to hear Five’s response.

“I have some news, actually. A business endeavor the two of you may be interested in.”

Immediately, Diego’s demeanor turns serious, brain already switching to a headspace more suited to analytics. Another point where Klaus and Diego differ. Diego is the one in the relationship who gathers all of the facts, runs background checks and scopes out locations. Klaus is the aesthetic side of things. What will draw the most satisfaction, get the most response, look the best. Diego is the hammer, Klaus is the arm swinging the hammer to hit the nail. And Five, he’s the hardware store owner.

“Oh, I’m afraid I have a party tomorrow night. But I’m sure Diego would be interested to hear all about it. He’s been a bit antsy lately, business being slow and all. A trip should do him some good. Where has this venture popped up?” Klaus dances back into the kitchen, a tune only he can hear driving his steps and propelling the swish of his skirts.

With a fond smile, Five speaks loud enough that Klaus will be able to hear him from the kitchen. “It’s in Spokane, Washington. The liaison there is named Leslie Pricket.”

Klaus interrupts Five with a wistful sounding aside. “I do love Leslie, haven’t seen him in ages. Such a lovely omega. How’s his mother?”

“She’s fine, Klaus. An unfortunate accident befell that horrible alpha she was bonded to. She lives with her alpha cousin now.”

“Wonderful! Carry on,” The omega instructed. 

The beta rolls his head on his shoulders, popping several joints, before speaking again. “As I was saying, Leslie is your liaison. He will give you any pertinent information that you may need before your meeting with Harold Jenkins. He’s a big name in furniture. He has been a part of several unconfirmed scandals surrounding…” Five trails off, looking for the right words. “Boys of questionable legality.”

“Are we sure about doing business with him?” Diego wasn’t certain, given the information about the scandals.

Klaus pokes his head out of the kitchen, flour streaked across his forehead and dough on his nose. “I’ve been doing some looking myself, and I agree with Five. You’ll definitely want to at least meet him, see what he’s all about.” Then he’s back into his lair, preparing desserts for the party the next day.

“Yes, I believe an in-person meeting is in order, at the very least. Though I truly think you’ll agree that this deserves more than a cursory glance.”

Rubbing a hand over his forehead, Diego nods and lets out a long stream of air. The pinch of his lips a good physical representation for the building pain in his skull at the mere thought of the travel required to get to Washington from Georgia.

“Well then,” Five starts, clapping his hands together and standing. Diego is jealous that his pressed suit still looks immaculate. “Now that I’ve delivered you the news, I must be going. Things to deal with at home base.”

The young man picks up his now empty glass and takes it to the kitchen where Klaus is undoubtedly making a mess that Diego will have to clean up. It’s their deal. Klaus cooks and bakes, and Diego deals with the aftermath.

Omega and beta both emerge from the kitchen, Klaus covered in even more pie detritus. He is a truly messy cook, but Diego loves him.

"Klaus, if you don't call Vanya soon, you may be out a testicle. Her words, not mine. Not that you need it, but I imagine the removal would be quite painful."

Klaus shudders, hand discreetly slipping down towards his crotch. "She wouldn't."

Five tilts his head side to side in thought, then nods. "You're right, she would have Allison do it."

"Okay! I'll call." sighing, the omega gives Five his serious puppy eyes. "How are they? I know things were hard there for a while, after dad."

With a firm hand, Five grips Klaus' elbow and speaks in a low, soothing voice. "They're doing well. But they miss you. We all miss you, up in the big city. Don't be a stranger."

Crystalline tears gather in the thick of Klaus' bottom lashes, threatening to spill over and introduce an element of emotion that neither person would handle very well. "I'll visit. I will. Some day, I'll make it back up there. I miss you guys too."

Satisfied, Five nods and moves on. "I have to go now, Klaus. But call them. I refuse to feel bad for you if you decide to ignore my advice."

They lean into each other, sharing a chaste peck on the lips.

As Five is walking out the door, Diego mutters "White people," and earns a rude hand gesture for his comment. In response, Diego simply closes the door behind Five, very firmly.

"Well, that was... it was very Five."

Klaus still has a wistful look on his face and blinks several times before offering Diego a small smile. "Yes, it was."

Heart overwhelmed with feeling for his strong omega, Diego heads across the room to envelop Klaus in a tight hug. "You miss them a lot, huh baby?"

A sniffle, a nod. That's the most response Diego is going to get.

"It's alright. We'll have them over, soon. Now that we have our house set up and fit for company. How does that sound?"

"Wonderful, Diego. Thank you." Klaus takes a fortifying breath, then separates himself from the hug. To look at him, Diego would have no idea he was just crying if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes.

Klaus glides back into the kitchen, perfectly curled hair bouncing as he goes.

"These pies are almost done!" He calls from the depths of the stove. "Just have to put them in to bake. Will you keep an eye on them while I clean up for bed? Oh, and when I'm done, I'll call Sam. He should be ready to take off tonight, if you get ready quickly."

"Sounds great, love," Diego responds, taking a seat on the couch and flipping through the file Five left.

Klaus zips by him a moment later, dropping a doughy kiss to his cheek before continuing on his way to the bathroom. If Diego knows his mate as well as he likes to believe he does, Klaus will be in there for the next hour, at least. The omega is a major supporter of long, scented baths and extensive beauty routines. It's something Diego finds endearing, rather than annoying. Though, he thinks, he could never find anything about Klaus _truly_ annoying. He is far too in love. Whipped, as his 'friends' like to say. He's alright with being whipped, though. It's Klaus. The real question is how someone could not be absolutely enamored by such an ethereal and radiant creature like the omega taking a bath just down the hall.

Diego loses himself in his reading. He pauses to take the pies out of the oven when the timer goes off. He sets them to cool, then goes back to the couch and resumes his review of the information Five had compiled about Harold Jenkins and his company.

It’s another three-quarters of an hour before Diego is able to pry himself away, file read and annotated. There wasn’t as much information as Diego would have liked. 

That's okay, though, because Leslie would provide him with any more pertinent details upon his arrival in Spokane. Gods, Diego hates Spokane. Such a wet, boring place.

He gets up from the couch and stretches his limbs, popping the joints in his elbows and knees. The file is put neatly back together and placed in his briefcase, whose home is below the coffee table. Once he's done that, he makes his way up the stairs, to the bathroom, to check on Klaus.

The omega isn't in there, but the air is still warm and fragrant, meaning Klaus can't have been out for too long. Rerouting his course, he takes a turn and heads to the end of the hall.

Diego walks into the room Klaus claimed for his clothing and makeup, to find his husband stroking a finger over the face of a beautifully engraved locket. 

Sensing his presence, Klaus turns to smile softly at him. In his room of fripperies and frills, the omega has dropped the harsh lines of his everyday demeanor and is instead exuding a molten glow of soft happiness that has Diego’s fingers itching to reach over and stroke the porcelain skin where the satin robe has fallen. 

“I wonder,” Klaus says absently, breaking the silence but not the atmosphere of the room. “Did he buy this for his daughter?” After setting the locket back in the box he had taken it from, Klaus makes his way over to his vanity and leans up against it, hip cocked, facing Diego. “Was it another gift, for her silence? Did he plan to touch her again, on the night that we got him?” A sugar-sweet smile slides across those soft-looking lips, slow and sure like maple syrup, “I sure hope so, Di. I really, _really_ hope he was thinking about all the terrible things he’d done to her, while I cut out his throat.”

Diego barely has time to answer before Klaus is sliding into his straight-backed velvet chair, more a throne than a vanity setting, and starting on his daily routine. The alpha knows a dismissal when he sees one, and graciously takes his exit. He has packing to do anyways.

***

Diego left the night before, and Klaus is slightly upset that his husband isn't available to attend the party with him. Karolyn, Klaus has learned, is an extremely judgmental woman with a bible-thumping attitude. A pain to deal with on the best of days, a downright chore when Diego isn't there to be his voice of reason. But business is business, and Klaus respects his husband for what he does. It's important work, keeping scum off the streets, and Klaus is so happy he's found someone who agrees.

Annoyance with Karolyn aside, Klaus is excited about the party. It's a chance to integrate himself into the inner circle of omega and beta wives, to collect information that he can later use to his advantage. If there's one thing he's learned from growing up as a society darling, it's that people always let things slip when they're drunk, or comfortable. Klaus has always been good at making sure people are thoroughly both. And these poor women don't have the same experiences as the society bitches Klaus grew up with, meaning they don't stand a chance.

All dolled up in what he's dubbed his 'ditzy housewife' outfit, Klaus grabs the pies and makes his way to Karolyn's house, two doors down. He rings the doorbell, and when the woman answers, Klaus immediately has her pegged. Her dress is just shy of being a respectable length, probably inching up into hooker territory when she sits, and her makeup is loud rather than tasteful. She's a wannabe. Close to the queen bee, but never able to reach that power for herself. She thinks she's higher up on the food chain than she truly is. Klaus needs to keep her close, but he's not too worried about getting into her good graces.

He greets her with a quick air kiss, then hands her the pies and enters. He's stripping his gloves and shawl when he spots her; the one he needs to keep close. The queen bee.

"Hey doll," Klaus drawls sweetly, letting his eyes go half-mast and his smile get lazy.

It's that sweet southern charm he'd learned from visits to Georgia with his nanny, and he's laying it on thick. If there's one thing Klaus knows, it's flirting. And no one, not fellow omega or scentless beta, has ever been able to resist Klaus' specific brand of sensual charm.

This woman, it seems, is no different. Klaus can smell it in the way her scent spikes in embarrassed arousal as she puts out her hand in greeting. "I'm Susan, but most everyone just calls me Sue."

"Hello, Susan," Klaus purrs, taking her proffered hand and kissing the delicate knuckles.

She's a slim woman, all bird bones and tiny features. It's a pity her alpha probably wouldn't be up for sharing. Klaus quite likes the idea of having those slim thighs quivering and squeezing around his head.

"You must be new," She says, pulling her hand back to cradle it against her chest, porcelain cheeks painted a dusky red with her embarrassment and arousal. "I haven't seen you at a party before."

"I am!" He chirps brightly. "Just moved in last week with my husband. You may have seen him moving things into the house. He's mighty strong."

A microexpression of distaste flashes across her pretty face, marring it, changing the way Klaus sees her. The disgust is gone in a moment, but Klaus can’t unsee it. No longer does he see her as a pretty, delicate thing. But a fragile, _breakable_ , monster. “Oh, you mean the Spic we all saw comin’ out of your house last night? Not that it’s our business, but we was wonderin’ if maybe you were up to somethin’ illicit. So glad that’s all cleared up.”

Klaus knows, he does because he grew up with women just like her, that she thinks she’s being discreet. That this is how women here are. It doesn’t stop it from making his blood boil, causing him to concentrate hard on masking his angry scent. It’s times like these he’s glad omegas noses are generally insensitive to the scents of those that aren’t alphas.

“Yes, that was my alpha. He’s not the sharpest tool in the shed, but he satisfies my needs if you understand what I mean.”

Klaus nearly gagged getting that sentence out, but it appeased Susan, and without further ado, Klaus was folded into the secret cult that is white suburbia. 

“Oh darlin’,” Karolyn starts, joining the conversation. “Did you hear what that chink omega of Luther’s did this time?”

Klaus thinks that if he survives this night without snapping, it’ll be a miracle.

While Klaus is busy pandering to a crowd of tawdry housewives and trying to keep from going insane, Diego is in Spokane gathering information. And _planning_.

After meeting with Leslie, Diego decides on what he’s going to do. Harold Jenkins is guilty of a multitude of things, but possibly the most heinous is the rape of several young boys. 

It’s been several hours, and the sun is low on the horizon, nearly gone. Diego is following Harold to one of his usual haunts, a place where underage boys are the top listed menu item. It’s disgusting, and Diego would wipe them all off of the face of the Earth if he could. But it would arouse too much suspicion, raise too many questions that Diego and Klaus are not prepared to answer, will _never_ be prepared to answer.

So, he stalks his prey and bides his time as he waits for a perfect opportunity.

An opportunity which presents itself when Harold takes the young boy to a secluded cabin. 

Diego waits a short time before making his way into the house. Once inside, he quickly subdues Harold and guides the boy back into his meager clothing, calling Leslie to let him know there will be in extra in their getaway.

Once the boy is safely tucked away in another part of the cabin, Diego makes his way back to Harold, a somber look on his face.

“Mr. Jenkins. I’d say it’s a pleasure, but I’d be lying. And I make it a point not to lie to dying men. Which is what you’ll be doing, Harold. You’ll be dying a slow and painful death.”

Diego crouches down in front of Harold, dragging a knife across the man’s mouth. Gently, so that he feels it but it doesn’t do any damage. “Should I start her? For all those boys you kissed without their consent?” He moves the knife down to the man’s crotch, easily smacking away his struggling hands. “Or here, for all the boys you forced yourself _inside_ of?” On the word inside Diego drives his knife in, relishing in the sharp, cut off sound of pain that escapes from the man’s thin, pale lips.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Diego says as he pulls his knife out, only to drive it into the fleshy pale skin of the man’s stomach. “But I like a little music while I work.”

Then he’s off, taking the man apart, bit by bit. His flesh coming off in curls, like the skin of a potato as it’s peeled. Warm, wet blood seeping into the knees of Diego’s jeans as he sings. “And the world will be better for this.” He drags the knife from belly button to sternum, opening Harold up like a can of sardines. “That one man scorned and covered with scars.” Then he cuts crosswise, so he can peel the skin back like wrapping paper. “Still strove with his last ounce of courage.” His intestines look like shimmering snakes, in the low lighting, as Diego pulls them from their comfy human cage. “To reach the unreachable star.” A slit from elbow crease to wrist on his left arm. “To fight the unbeatable foe.” The same treatment to the right arm. “To dream the impossible dream.” A flourish as he slits the man’s throat, arterial spray hitting him, warm and sticky, in the face.


	2. Authors Update

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry y’all, not an actual update.

So, both capyshota and I are experiencing some wild life things right now. Due to this fact, this story will be on hiatus. We hope to come back to it very soon, in fact I already have a majority of the second chapter. But it’s not to my satisfaction and I currently don’t have the time to make it so. We love and appreciate you guys so much, and hope you stick around for the fun things we have planned for these boys.

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warning: Graphic depiction of murder and talk of rape. I'll be updating the tags once we have the second chapter up. Thank y'all for reading.
> 
> Comments make our little writer heads explode, but in a good way.


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